Page 148 of Double Standards

I tighten my grip, bury my face in her hair, breathing her in like I need it to live. “Not a promise,” I growl, lips dragging over the shell of her ear. “A guarantee.”

She laughs then—quiet, breathless, wicked. And I swear right then, I’d ruin myself a thousand times over just to hear that sound again.

Chapter Forty-Nine

“Baby?” Axel’s deep voice booms from the other side of the bathroom door, followed by three firm knocks.

“Just a minute!” I call out, forcing my voice to sound steady.

I’m suddenly grateful I left the tap running—to drown out the sound of dry heaving. I just hope he didn’t hear. The last thing I want is for him to worry, especially before dinner.

We’ve had a blissful two months. Our relationship is still under wraps, aside from a few trusted confidants. But truthfully? I’ve never been happier. Being with Axel is nothing like I expected. Our love is strong, our passion scorching, and the sex... only gets better.

When I told Lexie, she already knew. She’d suspected it was just sex at first. But as I spent more time with Axel, she saw the change in me. She saw how happy he made me.

Jada? She had to sit down. The only reason she asked was because Axel’s office visits had become a little too frequent to ignore. At that point, I couldn’t lie anymore.

I still haven’t told the firm. I’m unsure if I even should. But after this morning’s revelation, I know it’s only a matter of timebefore it all comes out. And when it does, I’m sure they’ll show me the door. So I’m just... delaying the inevitable.

I check my reflection one last time. The black bardot dress flares at my hips and hugs my shoulders just right. I smooth the fabric, adjust my denim jacket, swipe on lipstick, and run a hand through the soft iron-waved curls that tumble over my shoulders. My stomach finally settles.

When I step out, Axel’s standing there with his arms crossed, waiting, impatient but beautiful. His white shirt stretches tight over solid muscle, and when our eyes meet, I catch the exact moment he notices me licking my lips.

He looks devastating in gray slacks and that short-sleeved shirt, tattoos peeking beneath the fabric. He’s all muscles and ink, trouble and temptation.

Shit. We really can’t afford to be late.

“Let’s go, baby,” he purrs, offering his hand.

I take it. Gladly. I always will.

The drive to Max’s place isn’t long, but my nerves make it feel endless. Maxton Lucchese—Max—is one of Axel’s oldest and closest friends. He’s a towering man, all broad shoulders and solid muscle, with a presence that speaks volumes even when he doesn’t. And that’s the thing—he rarely does. Max is the kind of man who observes more than he speaks, his silence heavy with meaning.

Axel once told me it’s because Max only talks when there’s something worth saying. That he’s never been one to waste breath on small talk or empty pleasantries. But I can’t help but feel there’s more to it than that. Something lived-in behind his stillness. A weight. A wound.

From the little Axel shared, Max hasn’t always been this way. There was a time—before whatever changed him—when he laughed louder, spoke more freely, lived less guarded. And maybe that’s what draws Axel to him, what bonds them still after all these years—an understanding of what it means to carry things in silence.

We arrive at Max’s place—a 1920s-style brick home nestled in the heart of Brooklyn. Bay windows stretch from the walls, and a wooden porch frames the front. With pristine lawns, blooming flower beds, and a white picket fence, the place screamsfamily.It’s a surprising contrast to the man who lives here.

A child’s bike lies abandoned along the walkway. Axel instinctively helps me over it, then wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in closer. He can probably feel how nervous I am. But it’s nottonightI’m worried about. I’ve gotten used to meeting new people with him. It’s what comes after—when we’re home again.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs against my ear, breath warm, voice low. Goosebumps scatter across my skin. No matter how long we’ve been together, every touch still feels like the first. I lean into him just as the door opens.

A brunette with bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile steps outside and practically floats down the porch steps.

“You must be Cassie,” she beams, enveloping me in a warm hug. “Call me Jem.” She releases me only to greet Axel next, and he leans in for a kiss on her cheek.

The slam of the outer door draws our attention as it crashes into the wall.

“Ax!” a small voice calls out.

A tiny blonde girl barrels down the steps. Axel crouches just in time to catch her as she throws herself into his arms.

“Hey, little one!”

Something inside me clenches at the sight. He lifts her up and tosses her gently into the air, catching her with ease. She giggles—a pure, belly-deep sound—and I feel something flutter deep in my chest. Jem catches my eye, her knowing smile almost teasing. I look away before she can catch the flush spreading across my cheeks.

“This is Cassie,” Axel introduces, turning the girl toward me. “Cassie, this is Gracie.”